Hiroshi and Daisuke Are Dead
by Stefan Twoflower Gagne
Summary: Concept lifted from a mildly famous play, Hiroshi and Daisuke enter a tour de force of stale "darkfic" retread concepts. Metafanfiction.


Ranma 1/2 Evil Bad Bad Darkfic :   
Hiroshi and Daisuke Are Dead  
  
A Spoof Chase Production  
(http://pixelscapes.com/twoflower)  
  
A Nasty Little Ranma 1/2 FanFic by Stefan "Twoflower" Gagne  
  
(All characters copyright Rumiko-san, obviously. If I ever  
even considered claiming that these were my own characters  
I'd probably be thrown into a small cell where I'd be forced  
to eat my own admittedly snotty attitude to live.)  
  
-=-  
  
WARNING! This is a fanfic which is DARK. It's evil, it's  
bad, it's got death and sex and mayhem and chaos and torture and  
rape and demons and guns and blood and knives and drugs and fast  
cars and hot chicks and cyberpunk icons and lots of cool bad  
words your mommy doesn't like you saying and all sorts of  
references to Satan. It's so nasty and evil that I'd suggest  
folks shy away, lest they be corrupted by the darkness within and  
have a twisted soul which listens to Goth music and thinks The  
Crow : City of Angels was beautiful. Shy away! Turn back, lest  
you be destroyed! Repent! Oh, it's just so awful. You won't  
believe your eyes! Isn't sadism neat?  
  
Six points to the first person to realize where I got the  
plot structure / title. And now, on with yet another 'Darkfic'.  
  
-=-  
  
The stillness of the forest was an enveloping sphere of  
silence, without bounds. It was Gideon's Trumpet, of infinite  
area but limited volume; and like the trumpet it made no sounds,  
save the repeated ping of fingernail striking coin.  
  
"Heads," Hiroshi said, turning the coin up on his arm. He  
proceeded to flip it again.  
  
Daisuke, whose feet were killing him (FORESHADOWING), rested  
against a tree. "How many times are you going to flip that  
thing?"  
  
"Heads," Hiroshi reported, and flipped again. "Don't you  
think it's weird?"  
  
"Yes, I think you really, really need a date. You're  
obsessing over a coin collection sum total of one," Daisuke  
yawned.  
  
"True, but I mean about this. Heads," he said, catching the  
coin. "Heads. Always heads. I'd hazard I've flipped this coin  
seventy five times so far, and always heads."  
"And it's not a doubleheaded coin?"  
  
"I think I'd have noticed it if it was," Hiroshi suggested.  
  
"Okay, that's weird. But I'm not going to let it worry me,"  
Daisuke stated, sitting on the forest floor. "So what're we  
doing out here, Hiroshi? Care to fill me in?"  
  
"Me? Heads. I thought you knew."  
  
The boys pondered this for a moment, an ominous bit of  
silence hanging in the air in exactly the same way bricks don't.  
  
"Strange and unusual," Daisuke considered. "I can't recall  
either. And here you have a coin that only seems to return  
heads. This bodes."  
  
"It bodes what? Heads."  
  
"Just a general boding. Like a when you take out a tube of  
toothpaste and start to brush and wonder why it tastes bad and  
your mom asks where you put the Preparation H," Daisuke  
metaphorized. "That sort of sinking feeling."  
  
"Heads. I was thinking along similar lines," Hiroshi  
nodded. "A strange situation, where the laws of probability are  
turned on ear. And I seem to be talking at a higher  
sophistication. Shouldn't we be hanging in the crowd and  
harassing our buddy Ranma occasionally?"  
  
"You know as well as I do that the manga and the anime are  
over and done with. We're not employed to bug Ranma anymore."  
  
"Funny, that. Heads. But how did we get to this point?"  
  
"It's almost like the universe has been upended on its ear,  
with only us sitting here with nothing to do," he theorized. "A  
strange state of affairs. One could only assume there is a  
purpose."  
  
"This bodes in a manner I really disapprove of," Daisuke  
said. "If I didn't know any better I'd hazard we're both headed  
into bad times, Daisuke."  
  
"Point taken, Hiroshi. Heads."  
  
The two sat in silence for awhile, considering things.   
Neither was particularly smart enough to try to leave wherever  
they were (wherever they were), so they pondered and mused and  
turned the thought around a few times to the point where they  
barely noticed the wagon.  
  
The wagon which had so recently arrived was a patchwork of  
wood, iron and cloth. A gypsy caravan would have taken a good  
look and turned in their tamborines for wingtips and Armani  
suits. It didn't just posess loudness of color, it screamed  
bloody murder. (FORESHADOWING)  
  
Hiroshi and Daisuke blinked at it, which is normal for anime  
characters in thier situation and with their budget for facial  
reactions. The driver, a nondescript college age lad hopped down  
from the horse-pilot-seat, bowing.  
  
"And you might be?" Daisuke asked.  
  
"Simply a writer," the writer said. "And I've come this  
distance to make you, Hiroshi, and you, Daisuke, an offer."  
  
Hiroshi looked at Daisuke and Daisuke looked at Hiroshi, and  
both shrugged in sequence.  
  
The wagon side unfolded, with a brilliant array of costumes.   
Masks, capes, leotards, all manners of martial arts gis...  
hardsuit armor, large weapons, bikinis armored and not,  
longswords, magical staves and various leather goods. Props,  
such as slimy tentacle puppets, little alien chestbursters and  
battery operated cabbits with razor sharp teeth. And  
importantly, players; bit role anime characters, gathered from  
various sources, each seeking employment after the end run of  
their serieses. All were prepared for... something.  
  
"You see," the writer says, crossing back and forth in front  
of the wagon, "I am but a humble amateur writer. I have no money  
and little to offer you, I'm afraid... little to offer beyond the  
FICTIONAL DRAMA OF YOUR CAREERS!"  
  
With that, he put a Nine Inch Nails record on the turntable,  
and the various actors set about in a wild dramatic  
interpretation, with loud, plastic guns and partially unclad  
women. It was a spectacle. It was disgusting. It was  
entertainment. Hiroshi, for one, and Daisuke, for the other,  
couldn't keep their eyes away.  
  
"Tales and plots the likes of which you have never known!"  
the writer pitched. "New situations. Fresh concepts. American  
ways. Your jobs in the east are gone, and the west welcomes you  
to our spin on things. Ever wonder what it'd be like to have a  
Sailor Senshi get possessed by evil and brainwashed?"  
  
With that, a bit player in a sailor fuku cackled evilly,  
prop crews shaking cheap tin sheets to simulate lightning while  
other senshi fell over, pretending to be dead.  
  
"It's possible. Anything is. Ever wonder what would happen  
if the entire cast of All Purpose Catgirl Nuku Nuku went to  
hell?"  
  
A pair of shorter cast members, in a thoroughly unconvincing  
ecchi oni costume, operated tentacles on wires to grab a meowing  
redhead.  
  
"Trust me. We can make it happen," the writer smiled. The  
cast behind him took a bow on cue. "This is the new scene. All  
that traditional stuff is boring. The people have spoken and  
they want death and madness. It's original, it's exciting and  
good employment. So, do we have a deal?"  
  
Hiroshi let this sink through the first three layers, until  
comprehension hit. "You want to hire us to be in your... play?   
Anime? Movie? Story?"  
  
The writer shrugged. "What's the difference, other than  
resources?"  
  
"But... it needn't be so... obscene, does it?"  
  
"It works, don't knock it. You'd have employment for the  
rest of your lives, though. Can't even get a deal like that with  
Rumiko. Interested?"  
  
Daisuke held up a hand, to pause the proceedings. He pulled  
Hiroshi aside for a man to man discussion.  
  
"Hiroshi, I'm relatively sure this is why we are where we  
are and such," Daisuke said. "But something seems foreshadowing  
about all this."  
  
"It means we'd get to star in a production!" Hiroshi said  
excitedly. "A nice, gutsy, 90's thing! No more recycled 80's  
music or bit roles. We could be popular! We could be modern!   
We could get girls!"  
  
"True, true, and true," Daisuke considered. "I'm still  
worried, though. Setback. How to proceed?"  
  
"How about this, we flip a coin," Hiroshi said. "Call it."  
  
"Tails."  
  
Hiroshi caught the coin, and turned it on his arm...  
  
*  
  
To fair Nerima, where we lay our scene, two boys alike in  
not being very dignified at all looked around.  
  
They were no longer in a forest of unknown name but a dojo  
with a name all too familiar; the Tendo Dojo.  
  
"Hiroshi, what did the coin say?" Daisuke asked.  
  
"Tails," Hiroshi said. "Incredible luck, I'd hazard."  
"At least we're back to home as we know it!" Daisuke said  
cheerfully. "And at last, we're in the lead. So, where to now?"  
  
"I'm not quite sure," Hiroshi said, looking about. "I  
suppose whatever is to come will come to us."  
  
As if on cue (which it was), a procession led by Genma  
Saotome and Soun Tendo marched into the dojo, making a beeline  
for the protagonists. Behind them came the wyrd Tendo sisters,  
and behind that, the three proclaimed fiancees : Shampoo, Ukyou  
and even Kodachi.  
  
"Boys, boys!" Genma laughed heartily, greeting Hiroshi and  
Daisuke with a big manly hug that almost crushed their rib cages.  
(FORESHADOWING) "We're quite glad you could come when we called.   
It's about Ranma."  
  
"Erm, Ranma?" Hiroshi asked, forcing air back into his  
lungs.  
  
"Yes, the boy's been quite odd lately," Soun nodded. "Very  
much keeping to himself, very... unsettling. But you're his  
friends! We're sure he'll explain what's on his mind to you.   
Right?"  
  
"Well, of course!" Daisuke affirmed. "Nobody's more  
friendly with Ranma than us, his friends."  
  
"Excellent! Well, Hiroshi and... you whose name escapes me  
at the moment," Genma ^_^'d. "I'll just leave the task in all  
four of your capable hands. Off we go, Tendo! A celebration on  
the town in premature thanks to the curing of my boy's madness!"  
  
With that, the gathering trotted right out the door, leaving  
the boys behind to ponder their fates.  
  
"Madness?" Hiroshi at last said, after a period of dead air.  
  
"I don't like the sound of that," Daisuke nodded. "How does  
one go about curing madness? I'm no doctor."  
  
"You put too much importance on that word, madness," Hiroshi  
said. "After all, this IS Ranma. He may freak out at times, but  
he certainly doesn't go mad. I'm sure it's nothing terrible."  
  
*  
  
"The world is a hideously terrible place," Ranma wrote in  
his dogeared libary, hands and face still smeared black with the  
paint he slapped on his walls to cheer up. "I feel myself  
growing distant more and more by the days. I can feel something  
growing inside my chest, like a plague, or some filthy,  
detestible monster trying to claw its way out... and I feel so  
tempted to just let it out to slaughter the sheep that crawl on  
their loathsome--"  
  
"Hey ho!" Hiroshi waved, after pushing the door open past  
the stack of Lovecraft books Ranma had stacked in front of it.  
  
"Ah, Hiroshi," Ranma said, putting the blood-loaded pen  
aside and smiling in a way much like a cobra before you feed it a  
hampster would. "Haven't seen you in awhile. Ah, Daisuke as  
well! How do you do? NO! GO AWAY, HORACE! I'M BUSY! I'm  
quite well, myself."  
  
"Erm," Daisuke greeted. "Hello."  
  
"I was just thinking about you two, actually, and what color  
your liver is," Ranma smiled. "And when I sacrifice the goat to  
my dark master, I can ask him."  
  
"Wow, he really is insane," Hiroshi commented.  
  
"I'm not insane!" Ranma protested. "I'm sane. Everybody  
else is INsane and trying to steal my magic bag."  
  
"Ah," Daisuke smiled. "That's... interesting. Excuse me."  
  
Daisuke grabbed Hiroshi's arm, and dragged him out into the  
hall while Ranma crouched down and started making chicken  
clucking noises.  
  
"This is bad," Daisuke stated.  
  
"No shit, sherlock."  
  
"HEY! You can't say that word! It's in your contract."  
  
Hiroshi blinked, and covered his mouth. "That's bizarre.   
It just seemed the best thing to say at the time."  
  
"What's happened to Ranma?" Daisuke asked. "Surely there's  
a good explanation for this... shift in his behaivor. Perhaps  
therein lies the point of the story. We uncover the reason for  
the madness, we cure Ranma of his delusions and we all walk away  
happier and wiser."  
  
"It's very dramatic," Hiroshi nodded. "Very well. We can  
start with that. RANMA!"  
  
Ranma looked up from his blood finger painting. "Hai?"  
  
"Why are you insane?" Hiroshi asked.  
  
"Why not?" Ranma shrugged. Then he shrieked, clawed at his  
eyes, slammed the door and proceeded to make cooing noises for  
several hours.  
  
*  
  
"Well, that was unproductive," Daisuke muttered, walking  
along a Neriman street next to Hiroshi, kicking any stray rocks  
in his way.  
  
"I should have known better than to ask the insane person  
why he's insane," Hiroshi said. "That's just not how these  
things get done in the movies."  
  
"What's the proper way of doing it, then?"  
  
"It's a simple process of finding out clues, which lead up  
to the realization of the mystery and the punishment of those  
responsible," Hiroshi said. "Tried and true formula. Daisuke,  
who's the girl standing on the street corner wearing body paint?"  
  
"I'm fairly sure that's clothing, Daisuke," Daisuke said.   
"And judging by the hair, I'd hazard it's Nabiki."  
  
Nabiki waved to a car passing by, shouting to it. "Hey,  
hunky! Want some action? I'm up for a party!!... fuck."  
  
Daisuke looked to Hiroshi who looked to Daisuke looking to  
Hiroshi, and both shrugged before approaching Nabiki.  
  
"What in blazes are you doing?" Hiroshi opened with.  
  
"It's simple, I'm selling my body to get money for my drug  
habit," Nabiki said. "Any fantasy realized, high pain  
threshhold."  
  
Daisuke looked around. "It's not night yet. I thought that  
sort of thing had a specific time window."  
  
"Can't stay out past my bedtime."  
  
"Ah. That makes sense. I suppose."  
  
"Any progress on finding out why Ranma went crazier than a  
shithouse rat?" Nabiki asked, adjusting her skintight neon orange  
tubetop with matching earrings.  
  
"We're following some leads," Hiroshi said. "Do you have  
any ideas?"  
  
"One thousand yen."  
  
"I don't have that much."  
  
"Then I don't have any info for you. Fuck off, I'm busy.   
HEY, HOMEY! COME GET SOME TEENAGE TAIL, HUH? Bleah. I swear,  
this town is too straight."  
  
Daisuke adjusted his collar, not entirely comfortable with  
the situation at hand. "Look, do you really have information or  
not?"  
  
"Maybe, maybe I don't," Nabiki said.  
  
"How about if I flip this coin, and if I win the coin toss,  
you tell me what you know?" Hiroshi said, spark of intelligence  
fizzling off the bug zapper of his mind.  
  
Nabiki considered. "A gamble. I'm a gambling addict.   
Let's do it."  
  
Hiroshi pulled his coin out of his pocket, and flipped it.   
"Heads you tell."  
  
Nabiki caught the coin, and slapped it to the nubile young  
flesh of her arm. Her eyes widened at the outcome.  
  
"Well?" Daisuke asked. "What's it say?"  
  
"It says it's one of the rare limited edition 1967 G-series  
run yen coins! The ones with exactly .0001 mg less copper than  
others!" Nabiki said. "Hell yeah, I'll give you information!   
I'll even sleep with you two for this coin!"  
  
"Uh, that's not ENTIRELY nessecary," Daisuke said, letting  
more steam out of his collar. "But any information would be  
apprec--"  
  
Nabiki grabbed the boys each by an arm, with surprisingly  
Herculean (or Xenan) strength. "C'mon, let's get up to my  
budoir."  
  
*  
  
Nabiki tossed both boys onto the ramshackle bed in her  
ramshackle combination brothel and crackhouse, space rented about  
Dr. Tofu's infamous clinic / coke lab.  
  
"You two wait there, I'll just be a second getting ready,"  
Nabiki said, walking into the roach infested bathroom.  
  
"Oooeeeer," Daisuke said coherently.  
  
"Well... she might know something," Hiroshi said.  
  
"She might know sixteen thousand ways to pleasure us, you  
mean," Daisuke said. "I feel oddly discomforted by that.   
Something's wrong. Can you tell?"  
  
"What was your first clue, Nabiki's prostitution or the drug  
war going on outside?" Hiroshi said, as a few stray bullets  
ripped through the far wall to break windows on the other side.  
"Actually, I was thinking of the coin. What're the chances  
that it'd be a rare limited print, thus giving us enough money to  
partake in a three way orgy with Nabiki Tendo?"  
  
"Quite slim, I'd hazard."  
  
"Exactly. Something's up. I feel cosmic forces aligning  
against us in this mission," Daisuke said, getting up from the  
bed. "I really think we need to--"  
  
"Okay, boys," Nabiki said, wandering out in the alls, having  
doffed the latex items she was wearing before in favor of letting  
her size 36D breasts and trimmed lower region shine through.   
"Who wants to be on top of the sandwich and who on the bottom?"  
  
Daisuke's nose exploded in a gyser of blood and phlegm.   
Hiroshi was lucky and just fainted.  
  
Nabiki approached the pair, smiling, undoing Hiroshi's  
pants. She ripped the underwear off, and started to massage some  
life back into his important bit using only her ches  
  
  
  
shi was first to awaken, and thus first to scream in surprise of  
not wearing any clothes.  
  
He felt dehydrated, and oddly sticky. Not only that but he  
was entangled with a mass of limbs and body parts, which upset  
him until he realized it was just because he was naked in bed  
with Nabiki and Daisuke, which upset him less but not by much.  
  
"Daisuke! DAISUKE!" Hiroshi said, nudging his friend awake.  
  
Daisuke stirred like coffee, waking in an instant. "Whaa?"  
  
"I think we just did something, only for the life of me I  
can't recall what it was or how often or how many times I  
screamed out in pleasure," Hiroshi said, trying to cover up.  
  
"That goes double for me," Daisuke said, still trying to  
stop what now was a minor nosebleed. "Did we...?"  
  
"Let's ask Nabiki," Hiroshi said, prodding Nabiki's body a  
little.  
  
Nabiki didn't move.  
  
"I have another one of those Preparation H feelings again,"  
Daisuke said.  
  
"I have a feeling Nabiki's dead," Hiroshi said. "Notice how  
she's really pale, not breathing and is staring at the ceiling.   
And smiling in kind of a weird way."  
Daisuke sprang from the bed like a coiled spring, taking  
part of the sheet with him. "WHAT?! How did that happen?!"  
  
"I guess we were too much for her to take?"  
  
"That's not funny!"  
  
Hiroshi picked up a large, comically obvious syringe loaded  
with a glowing blue formula. "This might be the culprit.   
Someone must have sneaked in here after we finished with whatever  
it was I really, really wish I could remember so I could at least  
say I had enjoyed it and poisoned Nabiki with this needle!"  
  
"Who would do such a thing?!"  
  
The door came down, hinges tearing in a sound of twisted,  
rusty metal bending and snapping. Doctor Tofu, in his slicked  
back hair and pimp's outfit, stormed in, waving a 9mm handgun.  
  
"You punks! You killed my best bitch! SHINE!!"  
  
"Shine?" Hiroshi asked, scratching his head.  
  
"He means 'Die,'" Daisuke said, while diving for cover as  
the bullets whizzed over his head. Hiroshi was fortunate enough  
to fall forward, crashing into Doctor Tofu and not get shot to  
death in the process -- the two of them went tumbling out of the  
room and down the spiral staircase, into Tofu's clinic.  
  
Daisuke scrambled down the stairs, yanking his pants on and  
pocketing the coin he had found on Nabiki's nightstand, only to  
find Hiroshi @.@ at the bottom of the stairs with a X.X Tofu.  
  
"Hiroshi! Hiroshi! Are you okay? Hey, you're still  
naked."  
  
"I'm aware," Hiroshi said, rubbing his head. "Itai."  
  
"Italy?"  
  
"I mean OW. Get my pants. And call 911, I think the doctor  
broke his neck."  
  
"You killed Doctor Tofuu?!"  
  
"It were an accident, I swear!"  
  
"This is nuts," Daisuke said, holding the stair railing for  
support as his knees buckled like a cheap leather belt. "I'm  
leaving."  
  
With that, he ran from the drug clinic, avoiding the gunfire  
of the Crips outside. Hiroshi joined him after fetching his  
clothes from upstairs.  
Neither of them noticed the figure in the red chinese shirt,  
running across the rooftops under cover of darkness.  
  
*  
  
"Let's take inventory," Daisuke said, keeping a brisk, if  
not madcap pace along the street, Hiroshi jogging to keep up.   
"We just both had sex with Nabiki Tendo at the same time, then  
you killed Doctor Tofuu."  
  
"At least you got my coin back," Hiroshi said, flipping it.   
"Odd. Tails."  
  
"Can you FORGET about the coin? Something very odd is going  
on!"  
  
"You keep saying that," Hiroshi commented. "You keeping  
saying 'this is weird' or 'something odd is going on', and I keep  
saying 'what was your first clue', and whatnot. Can we please  
acknowledge that yes, all of what's transpired is weird, and  
likely all to come, and move on?"  
  
"All to come? What else could POSSIBLY go wrong?"  
  
Thunder tore across the skyline like the jagged dagger of  
hell, shredding the peace of the city and plunging wave after  
wave of a pulsating blast of noise into the heart of terror. The  
seas boiled and the skies burned; an omen of darkness was cast  
upon the land, an all entrenching evil that soaks men to their  
souls and taints even the purest of bones. A horrid disease, a  
pestilence, a plauge of madness! Satan's dark delight surfacing  
in the bubbling light of the Unthinkable! A storm of epic  
proportions, heralding the age of chaos and the times of pain and  
misery!  
  
"I really wish you hadn't said that," Hiroshi meekly said.  
  
"Isn't that Ranma, running across the rooftops?" Daisuke  
asked, pointing at something other than the foreshadowing.  
  
"What? Why, it is! After him!" Hiroshi said, charging down  
the sidewalks of madness in hot pursuit.  
  
The dark figure of Ranma, laughing the laugh of the truly  
mad, hopped and leaped from rooftop to rooftop entirely unlike  
the Tick. He finally landed on the roof of one structure, and  
ducked down, disappearing.  
  
"He must have gotten into the roof somehow," Hiroshi said.   
"Inside! Inside, we must follow!"  
  
"Isn't this Ucchan's?" Daisuke asked, noting the curtains on  
his way into the darkened, closed down restaurant.  
  
"You're right, it is," Hiroshi said, skidding to a halt.   
"Why would Ranma not use the front door, however?"  
  
"Well, he IS mad."  
  
"Point, point. How should we proceed?"  
  
"We go up," Daisuke suggested. "It's where he is, after  
all."  
  
So they went up, and found little of consequence.  
  
"Let's try down," Hiroshi had the genius of suggesting. So  
the two descended into the cellar of Ucchan's, which for no  
explained reason lurked like a shadow at the bottom of a  
spiraling staircase of steps. The boys, wheezing from the  
effort, came to a halt in front of a large oaken door.  
  
"If he's in the building, this is the only place he could  
be," Hiroshi said. "In we go."  
  
"Waaait," Daisuke said, putting a hand to stop Hiroshi from  
grasping the long hard handle and pulling. "Before you do that,  
we should be asking ourselves : What could be in there, and do we  
really want to see it?"  
  
"Eh? It's a cellar. Probably has wine and storage jars and  
such, right?"  
  
"Tonight, Daisuke my friend, I take nothing for granted."  
  
"Well then, we flip a coin. Tails," Hiroshi said, flipping.   
"Tails it is, in we go."  
  
With that, they opened the door.  
  
Inside was musty. Musty and somewhat musky.   
(FORESHADOWING) The stonework was aunchient, with torches in  
place to cast evil shadows upon the walls, and upon the odd  
wooden and iron structures; frames shaped like X's, racks, odd  
suspension beams, and the large vaulting horse Tsubasa was  
chained to currently, rear end jutting out obscenely.  
  
Ukyou, wearing only studded leather straps and toting a  
large spatula she was beating on Tsubasa's ass with, looked at  
Hiroshi and Daisuke oddly. "Do you two mind? I'm busy  
disciplining my slave."  
  
"You just HAD to wonder what else could possibly go wrong,  
didn't you?" Hiroshi asked. "I thank you. Truly."  
  
"Don't mind us, we were just looking for the men's room.   
Cheerio," Daisuke waved, bolting for the door.  
  
A large spatula blocked his way.  
  
"Looks like the spatula just caught a couple flies," Ukyou  
smiled. The smile was not pretty.  
  
*  
  
"Now, what was that again?" Ukyou asked, approaching Daisuke  
with the lit candle.  
  
"I am your humble lap dog, Mistress Ukyou-sama!" Daisuke  
repeated from repetitive instruction.  
  
"Now, that's better," Ukyou said, setting the candle down  
and picking up her spiked spatula again.  
  
Hiroshi, who was hanging naked, upside down in shackles,  
just looked annoyed. "You HAD TO WONDER, didn't you, Daisuke?   
You just couldn't resist. This is all your fault."  
  
"MINE?! You opened the door!" Daisuke screamed. "Baka!   
Baka baka baka baka!"  
  
"Boys, boys! You're not being good little slaves!" Ukyou  
said. "I'm afraid it's time for another turn in The Fleshpulling  
Machine."  
  
"Oh, bugger, not again," Hiroshi sighed.  
  
Almost in an instant, Ukyou's chest exploded outward in a  
shower of blood, as a spatula was rammed through it from behind.   
A gyser of bile, blood and vomit spurted out her mouth, like a  
fountain, as she collapsed into a twitching, bleeding mass on the  
ground. Her assailant skipped backwards into the shadows, before  
he could be identified.  
  
Daisuke just stared, wide eyed, as his former tormentor  
stayed quite dead. The spatula had even cut the straps on her  
outfit, letting her size 36D breasts hang free.  
  
"Now there's something you don't see every day," Hiroshi  
managed to say.  
  
*  
  
"I'm not saying Ranma did it," Hiroshi explained, as the two  
resumed their nighttime search for clues in and around Nerima.   
"I'm just saying there may be a connection."  
  
"Between Nabiki and Ukyou's deaths? Not to mention that  
Tsubasa was carved open rectum to sternum. It'd take a real  
madman to--"  
  
"Exactly!" Hiroshi beamed. "See, this is the sort of thing  
that happens in the movies. If he WASN'T involved, then we  
wouldn't have seen him sneaking in. Sneaking in means he's a  
suspect and it's usually the one who's quite raving mad that did  
it."  
  
"So if we catch Ranma, we win?"  
  
"Well, it's a theory, at least."  
  
"Where could he have gone, then? I've been checking the  
roofs, before you ask."  
  
"What would be the next logical victim for his murder  
spree?" Hiroshi asked. "Think. If *I* was a psychotic maniac,  
what would I do next?"  
  
"I'd like to get something to eat, personally. Domination  
and subordination really takes a lot out of you."  
  
"Madmen don't eat, baka. They just starve for the art of  
their murders."  
  
"Where'd you hear a silly thing like that?"  
  
"60 Minutes."  
  
"Ah."  
  
The boys pondered, train of thought temporarily derailed.  
  
"I want food anyway," Daisuke concluded. "How about we go  
to Nekohanten?"  
  
*  
  
"Nekohanten has changed," Daisuke said, stating the obvious.  
  
The entire building had been replaced by a black, obsidian  
like obelisk that towered over all other buildings in Tokyo, the  
green light of a thousand tortured souls swirling about its peak.   
Dark auras flickered and pulsated behind the rock, or inside the  
rock, or seemed to be WITHIN the rock; mind you, the beckoning  
cat statue was more or less the same.  
  
"This IS Nekohanten, right?" Hiroshi asked.  
  
"It's the same cat statue. And the sign is the same. But,  
for some reason, I feel a lot less hungry now."  
  
"Hold it... of course!" Hiroshi said, smacking a fist into  
his palm. "The next logical victim! Shampoo! Ranma must be  
lashing out at the women who've tormented him."  
  
"Who're you, Freud?"  
"No, I'm Daisuke. I thought you knew that."  
  
"I thought I was Daisuke."  
  
"You're Hiroshi. I'm Daisuke."  
  
"Oh, right," Hiroshi nodded. "Anyway, odds are Ranma will  
strike here next. It's our duty to go on inside and give Shampoo  
a warning. Wouldn't be socially responsible not to."  
  
"Fair enough," Daisuke nodded. "But let's do it as quickly  
as possible, okay? Just in and out. (FORESHADOWING)"  
  
"Correct," Hiroshi nodded, pushing on the blackrock gate, as  
flames roared over their heads through the inrushing air. He  
patted out a small fire in his head and proceeded with Daisuke  
down the 666 steps, into Nekohanten.  
  
Nekohanten had changed. There was a lot more brimstone, and  
flesh hanging off the walls on rusted hooks. The chairs had  
spikes on them, and most were occupied by a variety of tentacled  
monsters; each using approximately 12.3 chopsticks to eat bowls  
of evil glowing red ramen. Various naked people, emaciated from  
starvation, hung in cages at each corner of the cavern of sin, to  
watch the demons eat up.  
  
"Now I've seen everything," Daisuke cliched. "Let's find  
Shampoo and leave."  
  
"I must say, this is a rather classical interpretation of  
things," Hiroshi said. "I was expecting hell to be, well, more  
modern. Sort of like New York City."  
  
"Come on, it's never like that in anime."  
  
"True, but... well, I won't complain. We have a mission to  
do! Shampoo-chan! Are you here?"  
  
Shampoo stalked around from the kitchen curtain, eyes  
glowing red like the eternal fires of damnation, light glinting  
off her fangs. "What stupid mortals want? Shampoo very busy  
today cooking ramen."  
  
"Are those plastic?" Hiroshi asked, poking the fangs  
curiously.  
  
Daisuke yanked Hiroshi back, glaring at him, and turned to  
Shampoo. "We have reason to believe Ranma has killed two people  
so far, including Ukyou, and he's headed here next. Erm. Just  
letting you know and all."  
  
"Really? Aiya!" Shampoo cheered, hopping up and down cutely  
and thus losing whatever intimidation factor her new undead look  
gave her. "Shampoo so happy! Groom finally agree to slaughter  
fiancees and marry Shampoo like Shampoo tell him to do in  
nightmares! Now ai len and Shampoo get married!"  
  
Daisuke backed off slowly. "This was YOUR idea for him to  
do this?!"  
  
Shampoo nodnodded. n.n "Shampoo smart girl! Ever since  
killing great grandmother and drinking blood she get such neat  
ideas. And now she marry! Shampoo go tell dark lord and master  
such good news!"  
  
"I want to leave now," Daisuke prodded.  
  
"Wait, wait," Hiroshi said. "So, you somehow enslaved  
Ranma's mind in some dark spell, whispering poison in his ear and  
driving him to madness, so you could use him as a tool in the  
butchering of Ukyou, Akane and Kodachi, and have him as your own  
pagan love slave! Wow, that makes sense! I do believe we've won  
the story, Daisuke."  
  
"Why would he kill Nabiki, then?" Hiroshi wondered.  
  
"Ano, are you a god?" Shampoo asked.  
  
"Well... no," Hiroshi replied.  
  
Shampoo smiled.  
  
*  
  
"I'm beginning to suspect I should be investigating without  
you," Daisuke grumbled, trying to break free from the chains  
holding him down, naked, to the sacrifical altar.  
  
"Oh, shut up. What was I supposed to do, lie? How do you  
expect me to back up a claim like that?" Hiroshi retorted, trying  
not to worry about the wall of spikes and ritual knives rotating  
inward to skewer him.  
  
"Hiroshi, when someone asks you if you are a god, you say  
YES!" Daisuke yelled. "Now we're going to be dog chow for  
yammering beasts from beyond space and time, and it's all your  
fault."  
  
"I hope they didn't destroy my pants. I had my lucky coin  
in there."  
  
"CTHULU! CTHULU! IY! IY!" Shampoo chanted, waving around  
a big curvy jewel encrusted evil looking dagger as she danced  
naked in a raging fire, whirling a duck wearing glasses over her  
head on a black obsidian chain.  
  
"Hey, if we get sacrificed, do we still get paid?" Hiroshi  
wondered.  
The cavern rumbled, the cavern rocked. And down the stairs  
came a flood of water, surging in a wave of purity over the room.   
Demons screamed and wailed, some exploding, some simply melting  
as the holy water consumed the darkness within; Hiroshi and  
Daisuke in particular felt nothing odd than wet, but when the  
wave had passed, nothing was left in the cavern but them, their  
clothes, and a small stain of artifical purple hair dye. A  
figure in a red chinese shirt darted back upstairs, dropping the  
hose he was carrying.  
  
"You really worry too much," Hiroshi said, pulling on his  
pants. "See? Odds are Ranma got a high pressure hose, filled it  
with holy water and saved us."  
  
"Which makes no sense at all," Daisuke said, tying his  
shoes. "I was under the impression he was Shampoo's dark slave.   
Why in blazes would he destroy her?"  
  
"Ah ah, Shampoo never AFFIRMED my theory," Hiroshi said.   
"We're obviously dealing with a plot of dark underpinnings, the  
mechanisms of which are not immedately obvious. Wheels within  
wheels."  
  
"So where to next, Einstein? I would really love getting  
this story over with."  
  
"I can see two logical possibilites. Kodachi, and Akane."  
  
"Whoa. Time out. NO FREAKING WAY am I going to Kodachi's  
place!" Daisuke babbled. "If Shampoo's a demon and Ukyou's a  
sadist, and Kodachi was both to begin with, who knows what she's  
like now?!"  
  
"Two choices. Let's flip for it."  
  
*  
  
"More tea?" Kodachi asked.  
  
"Yes, please!" Hiroshi smiled.  
  
Daisuke grumped. Once again, he had lost to tails and the  
pair had gone to Kodachi's place, which was now a 50 story tower  
scraping the skies of Tokyo, bearing the KUNOM logo in blazing  
neon letters. After talking to the front desk, they arranged a  
meeting with Kodachi; only after being strip searched with full  
cavity checks, naturally.  
  
"You really don't need to worry, boys," Kodachi smiled.   
"The security here at KUNOM is quite good, what with the cyborg  
models we produce. We don't want any terrorist groups getting  
them, so we keep anybody suspicious out. And this killer, you  
say...?"  
  
"We think it's Ranma," Hiroshi said. "He's quite insane."  
  
"That's too bad. Once my company invented the Mental  
Stabilizer, I managed to cure my psychological problems," Kodachi  
said. "It's a real boon for the industry. Only affordable to  
the very rich, naturally. But back on topic. If my guards see  
Ranma, they'll just shoot him down like a dog. No problems."  
  
"Shoot Ranma? I thought you--"  
  
"Ah, Kotchy-sama," Tatewaki Kunou said, wandering in with a  
full tennis outfit and racket. "Practice was good today. I do  
believe we'll be able to outplay that Gates swine at our next  
match."  
  
"Excellent, Tatchy-sama!" Kodachi smiled, hopping up to kiss  
him full on the lips. "Last night you were incredible. We must  
pleasure each other again to... why are you choking, Daisuke-san?   
Is the tea bad?"  
  
"I'm sorry, my friend is just allergic to unusual  
situations," Hiroshi said, slapping Daisuke on the back  
repeatedly.  
  
"Anyway, would you and your friend like to see our security  
measures?" Kodachi asked, disentangling herself from Kunou, who  
headed for the showers.  
  
"Oh, I'd love that," Hiroshi ^_^'d.  
  
*  
  
Kodachi navigated the module towards the matrix hub, through  
waves of silicon data and pure information.  
  
Daisuke finished vomiting over the side of the transport  
program, and returned to his virtual seat, looking queasy.  
  
"Daisuke-san seems to have a bit of motion sickness,"  
Kodachi said. "Would you like something to help that?"  
  
"Please do," Daisuke nodded. "I feel like a... like  
something very bad indeed."  
  
"Fortunately, KUNOM is a leading manufacturer of virtual  
drugs, both pharmaceutical and recreational," Kodachi said,  
putting the autopilot on SECURITY NEXUS and opening a cylindrical  
object from thin air, twisting and matching the colors into a  
combinatory pattern. "Hold still, please."  
  
Daisuke's mind shifted in bitwise directions, as the program  
took hold and redirected his nausea to /dev/null. He blinked  
repeatedly, as suddenly he felt quite good.  
  
"I must say, this is an impressive cyberspace," Hiroshi  
said.  
  
"Please, Hiroshi-san. We at KUNEM prefer the term  
'Information Superhighway'," Kodachi smiled. "We--"  
  
ALERT ALERT ALERT INVADING PRESENCE IN SUBMATRIX TWELVE OF  
THE NEURAL NETWORK ABORT EJECT EJECT EJECT  
  
"wHAT'S GOING ON?" hIROSHI ASKED, CONFUSED  
  
ader in the system," Kodachi replied. "We're experiencing a  
system crash... can't jack ou  
  
Daisuke thirsted for the taste of  
blue, the bile forming in his  
throat as his lips parted the  
mortal coil and shifted through the  
geometric plains of the agony and  
the exctacy, screaming a wordless  
scream as his mind slided down the  
landscape of insanity and into  
  
(the figure, crouching in digital glory, pouncing,  
cutting, so much blood, so much death]  
  
The stillness of the forest  
  
Hiroshi clutching at his seat as the figure in a chinese shirt  
and pigtail raised Kodachi up, carving her vertically into three  
slices, data, icons, organs, all manners of things flooding out  
as her screams peirced the very fabric of reality  
until  
there  
was  
black.  
  
Daisuke screamed, pulling the electrodes from his head and  
falling out of the computer access chair. Hiroshi did likewise.   
Kodachi's pale, misshapen form stayed put; braindead, muscles  
contorted into a horrible position by misfired neurons, dead to  
all.  
  
"Why can't these people just use Macintoshes like all sane  
people?!" Daisuke yelled. "Hiroshi, we are LEAVING. Now."  
  
"For once I wholeheartedly concur, Daisuke," Hiroshi nodded,  
as the two ran through the chaotic halls of KUNOM, insane  
security guards spraying people wildly with bullets, carnage  
flying around H and D's heads like so many paper airplanes.  
  
*  
  
The two didn't stop running until they had reached the Tendo  
Dojo. Dawn broke over the horizon like a spine snapping.  
  
"Ranma's doing this, I just know it," Hiroshi said. "I'm  
totally convinced of this. We need to confront him."  
  
"With what?" Daisuke asked. "He's so far managed to  
annihilate several of the locals, and using skills I KNOW you and  
I lack. We're not even armed."  
  
Hiroshi looked across the street, where a conveniently  
located gun shop had just been installed. "How much money do you  
have?" He asked.  
  
*  
  
Armed to the teeth, packing enough weapons to lose balance  
if it wasn't for the huge army boots both now wore, Hiroshi and  
Daisuke nudged open the door to the Tendo Dojo. It was already  
ajar.  
  
"So we go in, we kill Ranma, and we're the heroes of the day  
and win, right?" Daisuke asked.  
  
"That about sums it up," Hiroshi nodded. "Keep your eyes  
peeled. He's likely to have a trap or an ambush or something."  
  
The two creeped through the silent house. There was food on  
the stove, but no Kasumi. The television was on without a  
watcher. It was almost like someone had taken the house and  
turned it upside down to shake out the residents, except that no  
furniture was out of place.  
  
"If I was the villian, I'd be hiding in the attic or in the  
basement," Hiroshi said.  
  
"Which one do we check first?" Daisuke asked. "And don't  
flip your--"  
  
"Tails, we go up," Hiroshi said, pocketing the coin.  
  
"Fine, YOU go up," Daisuke replied. "I'm going down. Let's  
split up and look."  
  
"Yes, he can hunt us down and kill us easier that way,"  
Hiroshi nodded, creeping upstairs.  
  
Daisuke considered this for less than a moment before  
following Hiroshi upstairs.  
  
*  
  
It took a few good whacks with the butt of a gun (and some  
yelps as Daisuke dodged an accidental misfiring) before the hatch  
to the attic cracked open, dust thick in the air as thieves.  
Hiroshi's torso entered the darkened attic, no furnture  
visible. No windows. No people. Just darkness, black as  
midnight and as impenetrable as airline food.  
  
"Pass me up a flashlight," Hiroshi said. Daisuke did.   
Which is bad, because what Hiroshi managed to see up there, he  
wished he hadn't.  
  
There was Genma, his lungs pulled out through his rear.   
Soun had his arms torn off, blood dripping down onto the pile of  
bodies that included Azusa and Mikado (slashes across the throat  
made with ice skates), Ryouga, who had his head crushed by an  
umbrella, Happosai -- strangled with a bra, Kunou, still naked  
from the shower and now bearing bullet holes, Gosunkugi with a  
voodoo doll nailed to his face, Akari with gore wounds caused by  
a wild boar. Even Nodoka, Pansuto Taro, the Jusenkyo Guide, Pink  
and Link, the Niku-men, Herb, Toma, Kirin and that orange fish  
thing from Urusei Yatsura were in the pile of dead bodies.  
  
And sitting atop the pile was Ranma saotome, face contorted  
into a sick smile, sitting beside himself. Literally, with his  
severed head in his lap.  
  
Hiroshi was mildly unsettled.  
  
Then the SWAT team showed up, and arrested the pair of them  
for being serial murder suspects since everywhere they went  
tonight dead bodies were left, and they were caught redhanded  
coming out of the attic with tons of weapons.  
  
*  
  
"And that's the way it is," the writer said, strapping  
Hiroshi and Daisuke into the electric chairs the judge sentenced  
them to. "Deaths of tyrants, deaths of madmen, deaths of  
heroes... and deaths of bakas."  
  
"It goes to show," Daisuke grumbled. "Whatever. I'm sick  
of it by this point. If I'm going to die, then let's get it over  
with. I'm not happy."  
  
"This is the 90's," the writer noted. "You're not supposed  
to be happy."  
  
"Well... I just don't think it's fair," Hiroshi said. "We  
never even found out who did it. All that happened was a lot of  
people dying in horrible ways. There wasn't any JUSTICE!"  
  
"There is no justice," the writer smiled. "Just me." He  
nodded to Akane, resplended in her chinese shirt and pigtail, who  
pulled the lever and electrocuted Hiroshi and Daisuke.  
  
Once they were officially dead, the wagon packed up its  
props, the actors hid away, and the horses trotted off into the  
forest, headed towards the next story.  
  
They left Hiroshi's doubleheaded coin behind.  
  
  
  
College Park, Maryland  
November 10th, 1996  
 


End file.
